Complicated Situation
by scarlett.speaks
Summary: He knew her a long time ago. He was a different person then.
1. Chapter 1

_1983._

It was raining outside and their body heat inside her ancient beetle was causing the windows to fog. Renata shook out her hair, little droplets flying everywhere. Her laughter was big and delighted and infectious. "I can't believe that _worked_!" She crowed, wriggling out of the borrowed suit jacket and tossing it into the back seat where it immediately slithered to the floorboards. "Did you see that guy? He looked like he was going to shit a brick!"

He leaned against the passenger door, feeling grimy even though they'd just made a mad dash through the pouring rain. Three days in jail would do that to a person. "Thanks for springing me."

She grinned at him, "Saving the day makes me hungry, let's go get food."

"Do we have money for that?" He furrowed his brow, tallying the stash they kept in the HR Pufnstuf lunchbox under the driver's seat. Renata smirked at him and flashed her teeth in a grin that was almost shark-like.

"I am captivating. I am a mystery. I hold universes in my eyes, lover," she turned the key in the ignition and the old beetle sputtered to life. "I think I can manage ten measly bucks for a pizza." She pulled on the gear shift and the car lurched. "Besides," she looked at him from under her lashes and the look was both coy and mercenary, "in case you haven't noticed, some people think I'm just too damn pretty to go hungry."

 _Present day._

Jacob opened and closed his eyes, trying to remember what the hell he was doing when his mind wandered. _Right._ He clicked through a few emails from his lawyers, not even slightly interested in the updates to various lawsuits and acquisitions. He sighed, business could be incredibly exciting, but more often than not, it was incredibly boring.

He wondered why he'd been thinking of Renata. He smiled faintly, he hadn't thought of her in...it must have been years. Not since he heard she'd married whatsisname anyway. He sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers lightly on the arm. The last time he'd seen her she'd been wearing a power suit. One of those serious eighties numbers with the shoulder pads and the big buttons. Her wild hair had been slicked back into a severe bun, and she'd had a pair of massive sunglasses on her face. A shiny leather valise at her hip.

 _We grow up, we grow apart_ , she'd said. She'd taken a position as a law clerk with a supreme court justice and he'd been...disappointed wasn't even the right word. He chuckled softly, betrayed, devastated. He'd accused her of selling out their principles to uphold the government they were trying to overthrow.

She'd looked a little sick, truth be told. But she'd stood her ground on those court steps. And she'd told him there were two ways a person could change the world-either by becoming part of the system itself, or buying into it, and she didn't have the capital to do the latter.

So that's what he'd done.

 _1983._

"No! You _cannot_ eat a pizza like that, what is wrong with you!" She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She fell against the mountain of pillows on her apartment floor and wheezed, waving her hand weakly for him to stop.

He was laughing himself, looking up from the plate in front of him as he drizzled ranch dressing on his pizza slice. "I like it this way."

"That is disgusting," she took a napkin and pressed it gently under her eyes, careful of her eye makeup. They had a large pie from Tony's, the pizza place below her apartment, the smell was always wafting up so she was always craving the stuff. And Tony thought she was pretty so he was forever giving her free food. Tonight's pie was peppers and mushrooms and sausage with tomato and olive.

The Ranch was the only thing that made it palatable.

She took a bite of her pizza slice and chased it with a sip of beer. Pink Floyd was playing on the radio. Renata scratched her head and gave him a long, long look. The sounds of the city wafted in from the half open windows. Her apartment wasn't air conditioned so even though it was raining outside she had to have the windows open or it was unbearable in the summer.

Jacob licked the dressing off his thumb and met her gaze, saying nothing, waiting silently.

"I'm glad you're out," she said finally, her eyes widening for a moment as though she'd say more, then she smirked, "but if you're really gonna eat that you're gonna have to brush your teeth before you come at me with that mouth."

"Oh yeah?" He said, challenge causing his eyebrows to go north.

"Uh, yeah," She took another sip of her beer. Then immediately squealed and flailed when he dove across the cushions to her. "-the pizza!"

They ended up having to order another pie from Tony. This one they paid for.


	2. Chapter 2

_Present._

Mathias rang the doorbell promptly at ten in the morning. Jacob wasn't surprised he was on time, but he was a little curious what brought the police chief to his doorstep in the first place. His call the night before had been…cryptic. He ran a hand over his hair, he had a pile of things on the desk in his office he needed to be paying attention to, he was happy to make time for whatever this was, but the niggling voice in the back of his head was reminding him of tasks not done.

"Hey, man," he said as he opened the door, his smile genuine.

"Jacob," Mathias wasn't in uniform, so whatever-it-was wasn't official business. Jacob narrowed his eyes slightly, his curiosity piqued further. He stepped back, hands going to his hips like he was used to his gun belt. Jacob raised his eyebrows. Whatever-it-was had Mathias on edge.

"What brings you here?" Jacob glanced past the smaller man, he could just see the front of his vehicle past the courtyard. He was driving his girlfriend's Jeep, the windows were tinted dark enough Jacob couldn't see inside.

"It's...kindof a delicate situation actually," Mathias said, "I thought you'd rather it be in private rather than at the casino."

"Uh-huh," Jacob raised an eyebrow, "are you gonna tell me what it is?"

"Yeah," Mathias rolled his eyes, "I've got someone in the Jeep who wants to speak to you." He didn't look thrilled about it.

"O-kay," he shrugged, stepping out of the house. It wasn't going to cost him anything to play along with whatever-it-was, he decided. He trusted Mathias, they tended to have the same goals even if their methods were sometimes different. "How's Adina?"

"She's good," Mathias grinned, "Gina's got every woman on the rez with a granny bringing by morning sickness remedies, but I think she likes being pampered. She says to tell you thank you for the spa treatments."

Jacob laughed, "Tell her she's welcome, pregnant women deserve to be pampered." They were getting nearer to the Jeep.

"I think letting people fuss over her is a new experience," Mathias said, "and she needs it the past few weeks. Her best friend's father died last month. She's been pretty depressed."

Jacob made a sound in his throat that was sympathetic.

"She's really close to Trish's parents since hers are dead, and with the baby and all-" he shrugged.

"That must be hard," Jacob was staring at the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. His mind was teasing back to a time long ago. A phone call. A shouting match.

"Trish and her mom showed up, actually," Mathias shrugged, "It's been good for her having them here but Trisha's mother wanted me to set up a meeting with you."

"With me?" Jacob furrowed his brow, his mind pulling back to present. "Why?"

"That's what I said, actually," Mathias sighed, "She thought this first meeting was probably going to be best just the two of you."

Jacob lifted his chin, suddenly tense. "She thought-"

Mathias waved to someone in the Jeep and Jacob turned as the door slammed. She walked around the passenger side of the Jeep, adjusting a hat that obscured most of her face. She was slight. He was most aware of the ropes of her hair. There was something about the way she carried herself. His eyes darted to Mathias and he felt a little like the other man had sucker punched him in the gut.

She walked around the front of the Jeep and the split pieces of her long cardigan brushed the tops of her leather knee boots. He wondered if she still smelled of lavender and cedar and felt a little like a ten-year-old girl for wishing the wind would blow this way to carry her scent that much faster than she was walking.

"Renata," he breathed, surprise and tension making him a little light headed.

She lifted her chin and reached up, adjusting the brim of the hat so she could see him. She looked like she had the last time he'd seen her. A little older, maybe. Hair a little grayer. There was tell-tale tension around her eyes, but she was still the same gorgeous creature he remembered.

"Hello Jacob," she said softly, her voice calmed a fire in his belly that had been burning for so long he'd forgotten it was there until it wasn't anymore. He took a step back. She made a show of looking him up and down, "You look good."

He said nothing because there was nothing he could say. He tore his eyes from her and looked at Mathias and the look in his eyes must have been haunted because the cop winced, looking almost...pitying. He forced himself to center. She did _not_ get to show up here unannounced and do this to him. He'd come too far. Made entirely too much of himself. Did she fucking know who he was? He clenched his jaw and straightened, feeling a little as though he was preparing for battle.

The silence was stretching a little painfully when Mathias cleared his throat. "Right, so I'm going to go for a drive. Renata, you've got my cell number. If I don't hear from you I'll be back in an hour, sound okay?"

"That's fine with me," she hadn't taken her eyes from Jacob's face. "Is that alright with you?"

Jacob cleared his throat, "I can't imagine what we have to talk about, you made yourself pretty clear the last time we saw each other."

She smiled sadly, he wanted to hate the way it made her look like a saint in a chapel. There was always something ethereal about Renata, it was part of the draw. And, he reasoned, part of why it was so hard to let her go when she left. "Sol died, Jacob."

"I heard," he didn't bother to say he'd only heard three minutes ago. "Still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

Renata made a soft sound that could have been a sigh and she flicked her hand to dismiss his tone. The rings on her fingers clicked and her bracelets jingled. That was something that almost made him smile. He used to spend hours entranced by her hands. "Sol wanted you to know your daughter, Jacob. _That_ ' _s_ why I'm here."

 _1978._

"You look lost," he was wearing a tee shirt that had seen better days and a newsboy cap. His teeth were very white and she could tell he was pleased with himself for talking to her at all.

She cocked her head the way she did in her neighborhood in Baltimore, the way that said she knew exactly how cute she looked, thank you, and she was doing him a favor by talking to him in the first place. "What makes you say that?" She glanced at the crumpled napkin in her hand with the scrawled directions and then her eyes darted to the street signs. She knew she was only a few blocks from Meridian Hill Park but she wasn't sure which direction.

He flicked the napkin in her hand, "I bet I could help with that."

"Oh yeah?" She lifted her chin, "You a tour guide?"

"Better," he grinned and leaned close, "I'm a tracker."

"What…" she fought the urge to laugh in his face, even if she admired his tenacity. "Like an _Indian_."

He winked, "Yep. Best in the world."

She did laugh in his face. She couldn't help it. She was glad he was laughing with her and she leaned against a lamp post so she could wipe her eyes and take a minute to breathe. "So you should be able to take me right to the demonstration, then, huh?"

"Which one, this is DC," he dipped his head, "besides, why you wanna spend all day at a demonstration? We could go get some lunch from a street vender and go to the park-"

"Meridian Hill Park," she said pointedly, trying not to be slightly disappointed.

"Ah, that one," he shrugged, "I don't like to assume."

"Ri-ght," she pointed up the street, "that way?"

He made a show of considering for a moment, "I guess you _could_ go that way, I mean you'd get there eventually. You going to spectate?"

"I'm not much for spectating," she adjusted the strap of her purse, "you wanna come too? I mean you don't really expect me to believe you're not going, do you?"

He laughed, "No, I guess not. Jacob."

He offered his hand and she shook it. "I'm Renata."

There was a rumbling sound behind them. A kind of grumbling that was the sound of a lot of people moving at once. He grabbed her, pulling her back from the street as the demonstrators made their way down the street. They watched them go by for a few seconds and he leaned over, his lips just brushing her ear. "I found them."

"You really are the best in the world," she said, glancing at him sidelong. There was a group of Buddhist monks walking in front of them, their droning chant mingling with the protest songs being sung. His head jerked back infinitesimally as though he couldn't tell if she were being sarcastic or serious and she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.

Her laugh was musical.

 _Present._

"As I recall," Jacob set a coffee cup in front of her. They'd moved into the house and Mathias was professional enough to pretend not to see his eye twitching in annoyance as he'd reminded her he wasn't the reason he didn't know his daughter in the first place. "As I recall," he said again, "I tried multiple times to get into contact with you."

"You did." Renata stirred sugar into her coffee cup. "You have every right to be angry with me."

"Well thank you for that," he said slowly. He poured his own cup of coffee, took a sip, then immediately poured it out again. He didn't want coffee. His fingers were tingling. He wanted to punch something. "If you say you never meant to hurt me I will officially lose my temper."

She laughed and it was the same musical sound he remembered. "You were the love of my life, Jacob."

" _Well you had a funny way of showing it_!" He slapped slapped the granite countertop and she jumped. "Just..what the hell do you _want_ from me, Renata."

She put the coffee cup back on the counter and laced her fingers together. "I told you, Sol wanted you to know Trish. She's agreed to honor his last request."

"Oh she's agreed," he realized his hands were clenched in fists and he forced himself to loosen them. "You keep my daughter from me for _thirty two years_ and now _she's_ agreed-"

"That's not entirely how that happened, Jacob!" It was the first time she raised her voice and he wasn't proud of himself that he was pleased he'd gotten a rise of out her. Renata liked to retreat to the still-water calm and it was maddening. She rose from the stool she was sitting on and stalked around the counter. "Do you remember who you were then? Do you _really_ remember?" He opened his mouth to respond and she dashed her hand to stop him, "You were in a dangerous place after D-"

"And you think I wouldn't have taken care of a child?" He hadn't known she was pregnant the last time he'd seen her. If he had, he wouldn't have let her walk away, he knew that much. He found out later-from a mutual friend. Someone who'd been admiring her temerity. Only Renata, they'd laughed, would be running errands for a supreme court justice at eight months pregnant and happy to do it.

"You weren't going to bomb the establishment with a dirty diaper in one hand and a pacifier in the other!" She sighed, "I'm not proud of what I did. But I did what I thought was right for her. We never hid you from her, I need for you to know that."

"I'm so glad," he said bitterly, as though that changed anything. As though it helped the fact that three months after his best friend put a bullet in his head the woman he'd thought he'd spend forever with had up and told him fuck everything they stood for, she was going to work for the government. There was a small voice in the back of his head, maybe the same voice that reminded him of the crap he still had to do, that said she was right to do it. That the grief he'd felt, and the loss, had taken him down a scary road and if he'd had a child there's no telling what kind of father he would have been. Certainly not a good one.

But he should have had the option, he wanted to scream. Still. After all this time. Usually he was good at letting things go.

She bit her lip and for the first time looked unsure. "I hurt you and I never meant to."

"Where is she now?" There was no sense in telling her all the things he was thinking. Rehashing old wounds. Not just because he no longer trusted her enough to be that vulnerable. He wanted to make her pay, he realized with certainty. But he wanted a relationship with his daughter, too. He wasn't prone to strategizing in his personal relationships, but he wanted to now. Because he _would_ make her pay, he realized.

"Remember mama's bungalow? Trisha's helping her friend set up a nursery," he realized Renata's cheeks were flushed. "Feels like my first grandbaby."

She looked so genuinely pleased in that split second it was hard to begrudge her the happiness. He smiled in spite of himself, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," She lifted her shoulder in a gesture he remembered well. "Would you like to come back with us? I mean you know Adina, right, we could all have lunch or something," She said it all in a rush, almost girlish in her fluster.

"That could be a little awkward, Renata." Jacob felt instant remorse for the rejection when her face fell. He reached for her, brushing her forearm with the barest edge of his fingers. "I'd rather let Trisha decide how she'd like to meet," he said gently.

"Oh," she shook her head. "Of course. I mean she knew I was coming over here so she won't be surprised or anything. If you want I can have Mathias give her your number, I don't have to be there, I get it if you don't want to see me." She felt light headed, almost giddy from his touch after so many years. And she felt as though she should apologize for feeling that way. As though she were doing something wrong. It wasn't as though her husband had just died or anything. She sobered a little, thinking of Sol.

"That would be nice," He said, and realized he meant it. How strange would it be for his phone to ring and for the person on the other end to be _his daughter_. Then the rest of what she said sank in and he almost laughed in her face. Renata had never once been a person lacking in confidence. For her to be unsure now made him feel the way he felt in a board room. A way he'd certainly never felt with her. Powerful. In control. He smiled and he could tell by the blush that spread across her olive skin that it was more than a little wolfish. "I wouldn't mind seeing you too."

"Oh," she took a step closer to him, then immediately stepped back. "That would-that would be nice."

"Good," he opened his mouth to say more but the doorbell chimed.

"That must be Mathias," Renata's eyes flicked to a slim watch on her wrist. "Right on time."

"He is prompt." Jacob walked with her to the front door. She had almost reached it when he stopped her, fingers curling around her elbow. She stopped, frozen, when he reached into his pocket and fished out a business card. One of the ones with his personal information on it. "Renata," she was blushing again and he marveled that at this stage in their lives the balance of power seemed to have shifted completely. He held the card out to her, "You don't have to wait for Mathias to call me," he waited until she took the card from him, until she'd slid it into her back pocket before he opened the front door to usher her out. "You know, if you want to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

_Present-Four Arrows Casino_

The ringing phone at his elbow jolted Jacob out of an intense Google search. He glanced at the caller id, decided he had no desire to talk to his contracter, and let it go to voicemail. He kept clicking through search results.

After his conversation with Renata the other day, he'd taken it upon himself to do some light checking into her life. Because the internet hadn't been around when he'd let her go so it hadn't been this easy, and because _his daughter_ was a reality now. He found Solomon's obituary quickly. From there he searched Trisha's name and New Orleans because that's where the obituary said she was located.

He was impressed in spite of himself. She'd graduated with top honors from Duke, then got her MBA from NYU. She was only twenty six when she and her business partner founded their agency. She was incredibly driven, it seemed she created something from nothing wherever she went. A little like himself, he supposed. Then immediately quashed that, he couldn't take credit for her accomplishments even if he wanted to. He bit back anger at Renata all over again.

One of the links took him to her facebook page. Of course it's privacy settings were relatively high. But he could see her profile picture. Seeing her face made the situation more real than simple words on a page could.

She had his mother's eyes. Renata's delicate bone structure and olive skin tone. Her hair was curly, it brought back a sensory memory of Renata's hair under his fingers that was so strong he had to curl his hands into fists.

He clicked away from her facebook page and followed another link to a local news station video. He sat back in his chair to take in the news caster's story. Apparently Trisha had been mentoring college-age girls for the past few years. Her latest intern had convinced her to start a program with one of the high schools in New Orleans. So she was working with high school kids as well. Teaching them about business and entrepreneurialism. The final project was a full business proposal that would be peer reviewed. Meaning the kids would vote on each other's work. The winner would get seed money to invest in their idea.

She reminded him of Renata when she was still idealistic. Before Danny's suicide. Before the anger inside Jacob himself had gone wild and he'd gotten reckless, uncaring what happened to himself or anyone else. He realized he was cautiously hopeful, it was a new sensation for him. At least, a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time.

 _Present-The Bungalow._

"I don't know what mama's thinking," Trish dipped her bread into the plate of olive oil Adina had placed in front of her and watched as her friend cracked eggs to poach in a frying pan of tomatoes and eggplant. "She's lost her damn mind."

Adina glanced over her shoulder, "She's grieving. So are you."

Trish grunted, pouring herself another glass of sweet tea. "Maybe, but she's lost her damn mind."

"When are you going to call Jacob?" She turned a dial on the stove down and covered the skillet so the eggs could cook. Trish gave her a hard look and Adina laughed silently, then jerked her chin at the living room, "Will you tell him food'll be ready in about five minutes?"

She leaned back in her seat, "Food's ready in five, sugarbutt!"

"You are such a child," Adina said, then shook her head laughing as she reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of ginger ale.

"I'm going through a trauma, okay?" Trish pulled a face, striking a dramatic pose. "My world is shaken to it's foundation."

"But you're handling it so well," Mathias said as he rounded the corner from the living room. He helped himself to the bread on the table. "You're only whining a little today."

Adina snorted as Trish swatted him. It'd been like this since she'd arrived. Mathias seemed to have decided the easiest way was to treat Trisha like a little sister and she was taking it about as well as an only child ever took to suddenly having an older sibling. He dodged out of her way and moved to stand behind Adina. She leaned against him gratefully, afternoons were better than mornings, but her back _hurt_ and she didn't want to complain, there was enough going on without people fussing over her.

"I think it'd be different if this was news," Trish said, settling back into her seat, "but I've known about the guy since I was a kid."

"Seriously?" Mathias rested his chin on Adina's shoulder, hands curving around her hips so his thumbs could knead the base of her spine. She closed her eyes and sipped her ginger ale, making an affirmative sound in her throat.

"Renata doesn't believe in lying to children," She said, catching his gaze from the corner of her eye and raising her eyebrows meaningfully. She took a step to the stove and placed the ginger ale on the counter so she could check the progress of the eggs.

"Yeah, mamma likes to keep communication open and honest," Trish rolled her eyes, choosing not to say what she wanted to say, which was a variation of _my mother may be a force of nature but it's hard to be raised by a force of nature_ because she'd learned it was pointless.

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Adina said, replacing the lid on the pan.

"Oh sure," she ripped another piece of bread in half, "you didn't have to live with her." She sighed, disappointed, but not surprised. Of course Adina worshipped Renata. Everybody did. Trish did, usually.

"Fair enough, you're right, I apologize," Adina reached into a cabinet for a stack of plates. "Every year on her birthday they'd ask her if she wanted to call him," she told Mathias, maybe to keep him in the conversation, maybe to steer it away from old hurts. Who knew. Usually Trish liked that Adina played peacekeeper. She'd been spoiling for a fight since Sol died, she realized.

"Wait, so it was ultimately your decision not to seek him out?" Mathias sipped Adina's ginger ale.

"Uh, yeah," Trish shrugged like it should be obvious, "I mean when I was little it wasn't phone calls, it was 'let me tell you about your bio dad', and Daddy would give a toast about how grateful he was I was born and without Jacob I wouldn't exist and all that. When I got older, like, uhm, maybe eleven? That's when they started asking me if I wanted to call him. And, like, why? I have a dad. Besides, I figured mama had a reason for leaving him in the first place."

"I just can't believe you were never curious," Mathias said, "I would have been." He stepped around Adina to the fridge and brought out a container of cheese for the meal. Adina winked at him over her shoulder and went back to the stove top.

"Well sure I was curious, but fuck that guy-he can't reach out on his own in all that time?" She sipped her tea, "I mean, I know how Renata can be... but still. You'd think if he actually cared anything at all…" she sighed, "Fuck, I miss daddy."

"Aw," Adina stepped around the counter, "babe," she wrapped her arms around her friend and Trish buried her face in her shirt for a moment. Adina met Mathias's eyes over Trish's head and he pointedly looked away, grating cheese into a bowl. She chuckled and Trish made a noise into her shirt. Adina lifted her arm a little, "What now?"

"Your boobs are huge now," Trish said against her chest, raising herself out of the embrace and wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"You don't say," Adina straightened her shirt. Then made a show of adjusting her bra because they _had_ gone up like three cup sizes in as many months.

"Does it freak you out that her boobs are that huge?" Trish asked Mathias, knowing she was being peevish but wanting to steer the conversation away from Sol because if they talked about him, then they'd talk about the cancer and how it all happened so fast and she'd be a blubbering mess in Adina's kitchen.

"Nope," he put a bowl of grated cheese on the table, "you want your eggs hard, right?" He asked Adina and she nodded. "Over medium okay?" He asked Trish and she shrugged. His hand skimmed Adina's arm and she sat on one of the bar stools. He lifted the lid on the pan and spooned some of the tomato and eggplant mixture into two bowls, eggs on top.

Mathias placed a bowl in front of Trish and one at his place, "Do you want us to wait?"

"God, no," Adina rested her hands on the bump under her shirt, "eat your snotty eggs, mine'll be done in a few."

"Where is your mom, anyway," Mathias asked, changing the subject completely.

"I have no idea, and I don't care," Trish took a bite of egg, "this is fantastic, by the way. I like that you started adding zucchini."

"Thank you," Adina sipped her ginger ale, "Renata said she wanted to drive to clear her head. I think she went to the casino and didn't want to admit it."

"Daddy _just_ died," Trish said something foul under her breath. At Adina's scandalized look she waved a hand, "I get it, okay. Love of her life. She told me on the plane. But she was married to my father for twenty nine years and they had a pretty good life all things considered, and forgive me for feeling a little manipulated over here like she's hauled me all the way to fucking Wyoming so she could get her groove back."

"You don't _know_ it's like that, she could just want some space," Adina said after a long, long silence. She slid out of her seat to move to the stove and help herself to food. "Sol _asked_ you to do this, Trisha. I was there."

"I know, but it didn't have to be this soon." She sighed, poking her eggs. "Daddy trusted me to do it on my own time. And I would have. Mamma's doing what she always does."

"Have you actually talked to her at all since you got out here?" Mathias asked, maybe surprising both Adina and Trish both. He took a bite of his food and looked at Adina, "Don't give me that face like I don't notice stuff."

"What face?" She asked innocently, turning the dial on the stove to low, "I'm gassy."

Trish rolled her eyes, "I've been avoiding it, actually. If I talk to her she's going to tell me the story again, and I don't want to hear it."

"What story?" Adina said, sitting back down and taking a small bite of the egg in her bowl. "Oh yeah, this is good," she said, even though her poached eggs were basically hard boiled. She couldn't do runny yolks for the past few weeks. She'd learned the hard way.

"That looks like yellow chalk," Trish said, wrinkling her nose. "The story of how it was the hardest decision she ever made but he was in a scary place and she was afraid he was going to end up in prison or dead and she had to decide between my future and their life together and she's thought about him every day and it's pained her that I was never interested in him and my heritage blah blah blah."

Adina made a face, "That's...a lot."

"Yeah." She sipped her tea, "Sometimes I wish she was more like your parents."

"If she was, you wouldn't have heard about this until ten years after she was dead because the new owners of the house were renovating and they found a journal or something walled up in the basement." She furrowed her brow, "Even then you may not have heard about it."

"Exactly." Trish shrugged, "I just don't get Renata half the time, like, who does that? How do you make the decision to up and walk out on a person you've apparently been carrying a torch for for what, how old am I? How does that even work?"

Mathias reached for the bread and caught Adina's eye. They shared a long, long look. Trish wondered what they were communicating with that look, it was definitely something. When Adina finally spoke her tone was even. "You know...if you'd asked me six months ago I'd have told you she was out of her mind."

"You're about to tell me being pregnant changes everything?" Trish sighed, almost disappointed.

"I mean, yeah." She shrugged, "Look, you know I love this one more than my life," she gestured to Mathias like he was window dressing and Trish arched an eyebrow. "But not for nothing, if he suddenly went off the rails and started making decisions that were going to affect this one here," she rubbed her belly, managing to look both apologetic and fierce at the same time, "no question. I'd be gone before he thought to ask me about my day and he'd never find me."

"And you're just...okay with that," her head was starting to hurt.

"Well I wouldn't let her go quiet," the look he gave Adina was heated and she blushed. "I would definitely make a scene. More than one." He shrugged, "I like to think I'd be strong enough to respect her boundary."

"Are you seriously telling me I should admire him for not going after her?" She was confused, she realized part of her wished he had. Some long forgotten, little-girl part of her who watched Disney princess movies and believed in happy-ever-after, no-force-in-the-universe kindof love.

"I'm saying you should probably call him at some point." He shot back, like it should be painfully obvious. "Also maybe talk to your mom."

Trish rolled her eyes and gave Adina pointed look, "He knows what he sounds like right now, right?"

"He knows," she took a sip of her ginger ale, "course he's right, so, you know…"

"You two suck."

 _Present- Four Arrows Casino_

"No, thank you, I'm fine," Renata covered the half full drink at in front of her with her hand to indicate to the cocktail waitress that she wasn't interested in a refill. She wasn't sure why she had driven out here. Certainly not to see Jacob, even though she knew Trisha thought that was exactly what she was doing.

No… it was more than that. This place intrigued her. It was so much the opposite of everything he'd stood for then. Capitalism and decadence and vice.

She laughed quietly to herself, sipping her drink.

Whatever it was, it was gorgeous to look at. All flashing primary colors and pleasing major keys. No windows to the outside world, and no clocks. Nothing to indicate time passing. She could sit at this bar stool for hours, weeks even, and the staff may change shifts, but they'd keep merrily bringing her drinks and there'd be very little change in the sea of people shifting behind her.

He'd done alright, in the end. She was glad. She could hear Trish's voice in the back of her mind, saying something sharp about how Renata had digressed into a teenager. It wasn't even a little bit true. She'd be lying if she said her heart didn't skip a beat to see Jacob, that her stomach didn't drop when she heard his voice. But to what end? The loss of her husband was a raw ache inside her, and it seemed a kind of cruel joke that almost thirty years of marriage could be ended in so short a time.

He'd faded so fast.

Unbelievably fast. She downed the rest of her drink in one swallow and winced as it burned her throat. The doctors had warned them both it would likely happen quickly. Pancreatic cancer wasn't kind. They'd barely had time to tell the girls before he was in hospice. She blinked very fast. If she blinked fast enough then she wouldn't weep. It wouldn't do to weep in the middle of a casino bar, although, she supposed she was probably hardly the first person to do that here even if this place was still newish.

Sol had saved her in so many ways. After she left Jacob, she'd been working sixty, sometimes seventy hour weeks right up until she had to go on maternity leave. And then she'd been a single mother working to support an infant and build a law practice. Her only friends were other lawyers, upwardly mobile, ambitious idealists who didn't have time to babysit so she could have an occasional night off. Or who didn't know how to answer when she'd ask a rhetorical "am I fucking my kid up by working to build a brighter tomorrow?"

Judge Shaw had introduced her to Sol, he was her godson. It was his sense of humor that had really attracted Renata. She was always so serious. So, so focused on injustice and making things _better_. And here was Solomon, this chocolate eyed philosopher who would amuse her by balancing spoons on his nose. He'd been good for Trisha too, in the early years she was such a serious little girl. She walked around with what Renata called her "angry face", but when Sol came around she was all smiles. Renata loved him for that.

Even if she never laughed so hard with him as she did with Jacob. The laughter was different. Lighter, somehow. And she missed it, dreadfully.

Besides, she made a face, gesturing to the cocktail waitress for another drink when she came around next, it wasn't as though Jacob would ever trust her again anyway. And she didn't very well blame him. She knew when she left him she was breaking something that could never be truly repaired.

She sighed, her mother's mother would say that she had no business thinking about anyone else anyway. She was a widow now. She should accept her widowhood. The thought made her itch. Renata refused to believe her life was over because it wasn't and she resented the hell out of everyone's sympathy. That was why she'd pushed Trisha to come out here so soon. Living in Durham had become unbarable. Sol had touched so many people and it was a blessing, of course it was, that so many people wanted to let her know he was loved and she was in their thoughts.

But she couldn't stand to wallow in other people's expectations of grief. She felt as though she were failing somehow because she wasn't rubbing ashes into her hair and refusing to take care of herself. She wanted a fight.

"Ma'am," Renata stopped the waitress when she brought the next drink, "if I wanted to get a room for the evening could I just give you my card, or do I need to go all the way to the front desk?" Suddenly the thought of driving back to Adina's house felt torturous. She didn't think she could stand to see her daughter's accusatory eyes. Eyes that looked so much like Jacob, even if she set her jaw like Sol when she was determined. It was disconcerting.

"I'd be happy to take care of that for you, would you care to use the card you started your bar tab on?" The waitress was friendly, but not overly chatty and Renata was glad.

"Yes, that would be lovely," she didn't have any spare clothes in the car, but she wasn't afraid to sleep naked. She needed a night of space, that was all. She'd text Adina to let her know so the girls wouldn't worry, that would be enough.

"Wonderful, I'll get right on that and be back with a room key," the waitress flashed a genuine smile and walked away. Renata sat back in her seat and sighed, casinos made it easy to stay forever.


	4. Chapter 4

_Present-Four Arrows Casino_

"Miss Richards? This way, please, Mr. Nighthorse will see you now." The assistant was too well-trained to appear curious about what Trish was doing there and she found she was grateful. She stood, smoothing imaginary lines in her dress-well, Adina's dress. She'd never been a person who worried about what to wear until today. She lifted the handle on the wheeled case at her feet, feeling a little silly for bringing it.

She let her eyes rove the art on the walls, the tasteful furniture, the views from the office windows. The administrative offices of the casino were definitely corporate, but just as impressive as the rest of the place. The secretary glanced quickly over her shoulder to see that Trish was following her and Trish forced herself to smile. She felt a touch of something that was almost acidic in the back of her throat. Maybe this was a mistake. She should have called instead.

The wheels of the suitcase were making sounds on the tiled floor. It was Renata's. That's what had instigated this. Adina read her Renata's text last night and the more Trisha thought about it, the more she seethed. _Oh, mama needed space, did she?_ She blew a frustrated puff of air and then plastered a smile on her face for the secretary. It wasn't like there weren't other places to stay in this town if she really felt that way about it. She shook herself, wishing for the umpteenth time she could be as sanguine about this whole situation as Adina seemed to be.

But then, Adina didn't have the reasons to be upset that Trisha did. It wasn't _Adina's_ biological father on the other side of that closed oak door, was it? _Adina_ wasn't going to see the man who was apparently the reason her mother was the woman she was, now was she? If Renata was to be believed on that, anyway. Trish rolled her eyes and thought for a split second about asking the secretary, _Janine?_ , if she could stop off someplace with a mirror. She bit the inside of her cheek, she wasn't going to chicken out now.

If for no other reason than Mathias had all but dared her to drive out here this morning and she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone think she was afraid of anything.

Janine knocked softly on the oak door and slid through. Trish stayed where she was in the hall, tossing her head back. Power pose. Shoulders back. Feet spread. She felt her eyebrow creep upward. Good. Let him think she was hard, and found this entire thing very droll. Inwardly she deflated when the door opened. Her fingers curled around Renata's suitcase handle.

Her look must have been a little more harsh than she meant, Janine took an involuntary step back into his office. "Mr. Nighthorse is ready for you," she said, smooth and professional.

Trish made herself loosen up. "Thank you," she said softly. It wasn't Janine's fault this situation blew chunks.

"Shall I take that for you?" Janine gestured to the case.

"No, thank you," Trish almost blushed, "I prefer to keep it."

Janine nodded and held the door open for Trish to pass through. She bit the inside of her cheek, steeling herself for a moment. She wouldn't let Janine see she was nervous, so she tightened her hold on the suitcase handle and pushed it in front of her like a kind of shield. She shook her hair back and sauntered through the door as though she did this kind of thing all the time.

He was standing in the center of the room when she walked through. She froze just inside the office door, almost jumping when she felt the door click shut behind her. He wasn't what she was expecting. Trish felt her eyebrow creeping up again. She swallowed hard, wondering if she should speak.

"Hello Trisha," he said softly, he spread his hands as though he were a little unsure himself.

"Hi…" she cast around for what to call him. "Should I call you dad?" She said finally, because she had to say something and it felt strange to call him Jacob. He winced and she made a face, "I guess that would be weird." She maneuvered the suitcase so she was walking past it, dragging it behind her now. "I'm Trish." She said, because she was only ever called Trisha when she was in trouble and because she had to say _something_.

"Trish," Jacob hesitated, then seemed to come to his senses, "would you like to sit down?" He gestured to the sofa behind him.

"Sure, why not."

 _1998-Durham, NC_

Trisha stared at her reflection in the mirror, lifting her hair off her neck and turning her head one way, then the other. It'd taken her weeks to convince her mother to let her relax her hair and now that it was done she wasn't sure she liked it. She'd never admit it to Renata, of course. But she missed her curls.

Adina grunted from the bed, flipping over like a fish and wriggling to the edge so she could eyeball Trish's reflection, "I think it looks great."

"It's different," the whole process had taken the better part of the day and her scalp was still tingling.

"Do you hate it?" Adina's own hair was twisted up in a knot on top of her head.

"No, I don't think so…" Trish eyeballed Adina's curls and felt a wave of something close to envy. She fingered the ends of her now-straight hair. "It's just so...different."

"Our hair's been straight before," she reached down to the floor, fishing for the open bag of double-stuff oreos.

"Yeah, but this different," Trish eyed the pile of products they'd picked up on the way home from the salon. "It even feels different."

"I like it," Adina said loyally, "Renata even said it looked good."

"Yeah," for Renata to say it looked good was a major coup. Her mother had Strong Opinions on hair.

"Why'd you do it if you weren't sure you were going to like it?" Adina said through a mouthful of Oreo. She swallowed and took a sip of her milk to wash it down. "Cause of _him_?"

"No!" She answered, a little defensive. She sighed, "Well, maybe a little."

"Let me see the picture again?"

Trish fished the picture from under the pile of products. She'd found it being used as a bookmark in one of her mother's older editions of some feminist theory book. The look on Renata's face when she'd asked about it was interesting, to say the least. Somewhere between slightly nauseated and excited that Trish was finally showing an interest, maybe. "She said it was from the day they met. At some protest or something."

Adina took the photo and scrutinized it silently. Renata was making a serious face and pointing at something behind the man's head. He looked like he was flirting, something about the line of his smirk. He held a newsboy cap in one hand and was leaning his arm against a protest sign they were holding between them. She couldn't read the words because the photo cut it off. "Your dad's hot."

"He's not my dad," Trish said automatically.

"Fine, your _sperm donor_ is hot." Adina held the picture between two fingers and wiggled it, "Don't you think?"

"I get why she liked him," Trish said neutrally. "Renata says that picture was taken about a butt hair before he got arrested for punching a cop."

"Your mom said butt hair," Adina giggled.

"Yeah," Trish rolled her eyes.

"Why'd he punch the cop?" Adina pulled the photo away from Trish and flipped over onto her back, staring up at it as though it held the answers to something.

"She didn't say, but daddy says he got arrested on the reg so it wasn't anything new." She reached for one of her headbands. All of her hair accessories looked totally different on her head now.

Adina snorted with laughter, "Who knew your mom had a thing for bad boys."

"Look at that picture again," Trish sucked in her cheeks, scrutinizing her face from a new angle, "There ain't nothin' about that man that says 'boy' to me."

"True story," Adina wriggled again so her head was hanging off the bed and she could sortof look Trish in the eye in the mirror, even if it was upside down. "You know _his_ hair isn't even straight in this picture."

"I know," Trish sighed. "Maybe I just wanted to do it so I could be a little different than mama."

"You _are_ different than Renata," Adina flipped over and sat up. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," she took the picture from Adina and scrutinized for maybe the millionth time. "I don't look anything like him," she said finally. "He could be anybody. Maybe this isn't even, you know, _him_. Maybe he's just some guy in a picture mama has." She gave Adina a Look, "I know that's not true. Renata wouldn't lie. It's just… you know." _I'm not like anybody else_ , hung unsaid in the air. If Adina said it, it'd be a battle cry. _I'm not like anybody else, woo hoo, go me!_ But when Trish said it, it was different.

"Yeah," Adina took another oreo and broke it in half, offering part of it to Trish. She rested her chin on her hand. "He's an idiot," she said finally.

"Yeah," Trish turned back to the vanity table and reached for a comb. Even combing her hair was a different experience now. "Don't tell mama, but I may shave my head in a few weeks."

"I think you could rock it."

 _Present-Four Arrows Casino_

"I probably should have called first," Trish said, finally. Because the silence had gone past casual straight into awkward. She shifted in the seat and bit the inside of her cheek. "I know you've got to be busy, it was stupid to just show up."

"Not at all," he looked surprised she thought that way. "I'm glad you came." He cocked his head, quirking an eyebrow and gesturing to the suitcase at her feet. "Did you need a room?"

"Oh, no," Trish forced herself to laugh and it sounded tight and wrong. "This is mama's, actually. She's staying here."

"Really," His eyebrow crept a little higher.

"Yeah," she lifted a shoulder, "I guess you didn't know. She texted last night. Adina's house isn't that big."

"So, you're here to drop it off for her," he looked slightly disappointed and Trish winced.

"No, see," she blew out a breath, "sorry this is so shitty. I'm here to see you. But she's here too, so I thought I'd drop it at the front desk for her when we were done."

"I'll see that she gets it if you like," he looked past her and Trish glanced behind her. His secretary was back with a tea cart. She was impressed in spite of herself, Shelby, her own secretary, was still getting used to walking into meetings unannounced so she had a tendency to interrupt flow. Jacob's secretary had either been with him for a long time, or she was exceptionally good at her job. Or maybe both. Trish quirked her own eyebrow, the movement unintentionally a mirror of his.

"That would be great, mama and I aren't really speaking at the moment."

He made a sympathetic face and accepted a cup of tea from Janine. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh don't be," Trish waved a hand and rolled her eyes, "She's doing her velvet bulldozer act."

He smirked, "Velvet bulldozer?"

"The thing she does where she gets you to do what she wants and you don't realize it until you've, like, agreed to drive the getaway vehicle or something and by the time you get it, you can't back out because you're staring down the Dean of Students and a cop or two at a Planned Parenthood protest or something." She grinned to make a little light of the situation, "You don't want to know how many times that's actually happened."

"Sounds like Renata," He sipped his tea.

"Thank you," Trish said to Janine and the other woman smiled at her before she slipped quietly back out of the office. "She's fantastic," she said, inclining her head in the direction the secretary had gone.

"Mm," Jacob placed his teacup precisely back on the desk. "I agree." He sat back in his own chair, the look on his face was just this side of inscrutable. Trish felt a little as though she were being catalogued, but it wasn't an unkind look by any stretch.

"Why didn't you ever reach out?" She asked, then at his stricken face, she winced, "I'm sorry, that came out differently than I intended."

He shook his head and reached for his tea, "No, it's okay," he took a sip, "If I were you I'd probably ask the same thing."

Trish took a sip of her own tea. Her palms were sweating. She put her tea cup on the edge of his desk and crumpled a napkin between her hands to wipe them. She was more nervous than she wanted to be. She hated going into meetings without feeling like she was totally in control of the situation. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, it's probably an unfair question."

"No it's…" he wiped a hand over his face and ended by scratching the goatee at his chin. "I didn't know," he said finally.

" _What_?!" Trish leaned forward in her chair. "She _had_ to have told you."

He shook his head, leaning forward against the edge of the desk, "Your mother and I didn't end on the best of terms."

"So you had no idea. Like...none. All this time?" Trish sat back in her chair, stunned.

"I knew she was pregnant." he sat back as well, his hand smoothing his tie distractedly. "I called her and we had a conversation that...didn't go well." He stared off into the middle distance, remembering. "I'm sure she's told you I wasn't in the best place in my life."

"I just," Trish flailed, then got up because suddenly she needed to be standing. "I just can't believe she didn't tell you." She went to stand in front of the bank of windows behind him. "All this time," she said softly, shaking her head.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told you," he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not trying to cause trouble between you and your mother."

"No, I mean I asked," Trish leaned against the windows, crossing her own arms under her breasts. She laughed shortly, "I just realized I've been angry with you for-God, I don't know. And all this time... _motherfucker."_ She tossed her head and turned away from the windows to pace the office.

Jacob watched her pace the length of his office. He could, he reasoned, say nothing because there wasn't a lot he could say in Renata's defense that wouldn't be a lie. Because he agreed with Trish, actually. His anger at Renata was a still molten thing. But there was also Trish herself. _His daughter_ , he mused. Her anger wasn't sitting well with her. He could see the conflict playing out on her face and wondered how often she'd ever been truly angry with her mother. Or, for that matter, how often in her life Renata had done something she felt was unforgivable. He suspected the answer was rarely, if ever. He _would_ make Renata pay for what she'd done. That wasn't in question. But not like this. He sighed, a small part of him was disappointed. "She was right not to tell me," he said finally.

Trish came up short, nearly stumbling on the carpet. "Excuse me?"

"She was right," he made a frustrated noise, "to be clear, I'm not happy about it."

She cocked her head, almost like a bird. "I don't understand." She had stopped in front of a ceremonial headpiece. Her fingers stroked the feathers absently. If she were anyone else he'd probably take her head off for it. She followed his gaze and realized what she was doing. "I'm sorry," she said automatically, stepping away from the table, her cheeks blushing red.

"It's alright," he said, gesturing for her to sit back down."You have to understand your mother and I were different people then."

 _1983-Amarillo, Texas_

It was pouring down rain, that special kind of rain that could cause flash floods for miles around and he was kicking himself for making this call on a pay phone. Water sluiced down the sidewalk and his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans were soaked. But he didn't care.

Their conversation swirled in his head. He'd called her at various times for five days straight. It was three a.m. in DC now. He'd woken her. She'd been confused, her voice sleep clogged. The sense of relief he'd felt when he'd heard her voice was short lived.

 _Lana says you're pregnant._

He wasn't proud of the way his voice cracked. Of the way he'd let her hear the hope. She was silent for a long time. He almost wondered if she'd fallen back asleep. He had the phone wedged between his shoulder and his jaw. His fingers were shredding the waterlogged yellowpages that hung from the phone booth.

 _ **So what if I am?**_ _**It's not your concern.**_

Not his concern. He wasn't proud of what he'd done then. The things he'd said to her. The things he'd accused her of. He felt a little sick, like a child who'd eaten too much candy. Shame colored his cheeks, she'd said nothing to defend herself really. Just let him speak, let him talk himself out. When he was done she was silent for a long time.

 _ **Was there anything else?**_

Her tone was dismissive. As though he were nothing to her. As though all the things they'd done, all the things he'd told her, all the sweet promises she'd made in the dark were nothing. As though _he_ were nothing. Jacob hated her in that moment. He hated himself.

There was nothing he could say to hurt her as he was hurting, he knew that. So he said the worst things he could think to say. The things that would cut her. The things that would wake her on lonely nights and make her question herself. He used everything he knew of her, every insecurity, every doubt. He said words he swore he'd never say and worse he said them out loud.

Then he hung up on her. He stared at the water swirling around his boots. The rain dripping into his eyes. He wondered if he hung up because he wanted the last word or if he was too much of a coward to hear her rebuttal.

He stared at the glowing lights of the bar across the street. It was late. The folks in there would be good and drunk. He braced himself, the fight he was about to start would probably get him arrested.


	5. Chapter 5

_Present-Four Arrows Casino_

Renata sat cross-legged on her bed, trying to find that sense of inner tranquility she usually got with meditation and finding nothing. She had already utilized the suite's garden tub, and someone had wheeled away the remnants of her breakfast hours ago. She was considering calling Adina to see if she could bring by her suitcase or a spare change of clothes when someone knocked at the door.

She sighed, stretching her neck first one way, then the other before sliding out of the lotus position. The hotel's bathrobe was slung over the edge of the bed and she grabbed it on her way to the door, figuring whoever was on the other side probably didn't want to see her in her underwear. The robe was much too big for her, and she thought idly of how Sol would make a joke if he saw her rolling up the sleeves. He used to call her "travel sized".

"Did you think I wouldn't find out you were staying in my hotel?" Jacob sounded amused, almost.

She fell back a step from the door, surprised. Her eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. His tone didn't fool her, she hadn't forgotten that look. The tightness around his eyes. "Would you believe I honestly hadn't considered it?" The robe was supposed to hit someone around their calves, but on her it brushed the tops of her feet. She took another step inside the room. "Come inside, I'll make coffee."

He snorted, but stalked inside the room. Wheeling a suitcase-her suitcase-behind him. "I'll make a call, my coffee is better."

"Where did you get my things?" Renata reached for the handle and caught it, her fingers covering his briefly. She felt the heat of his skin before he released the case, moving away from her as though her touch were distasteful. She refused to be offended. But she was a little ashamed-she'd only just been thinking of Sol.

"Trish stopped by this morning," he walked to the phone on the nightstand like he owned the place, which, Renata realized, he did. He dialed, then barked a request to whomever was on the other end of the line. He was going out of his way not to look at her, when he ended the call he stalked to the windows, pulling back the drapes, fingers absently straightening things: the remote, the stationary, as though he were cataloguing the maid service for later.

"Did you have a nice talk?" She didn't expect this to be easy. But she also didn't expect to feel so exposed. There was nothing in the room that was hers, really. Her purse on the desk, her reading glasses and a book of poetry on the bedside table, the unmade bed with the pillows piled in the middle because she'd tried to sleep on "her side" of the bed, but the absence of anyone else made it so lonely she'd crawled into the center and spread out her arms and legs like a spider. Her clothes from yesterday were in the bathroom.

His fingers stilled on the desk and he muttered something under his breath. Renata said nothing. Instead she reached down to lift the suitcase onto the low bureau. She opened the case and lifted out her makeup bag and the small box she carried her jewelry in. She debated beginning to unpack her clothes, but decided against it. If he was going to ask her to leave, she didn't want to have to repack everything all over again. She adjusted the knot on the robe and walked to one of the chairs in front of the window.

"She thought I'd abandoned her, Renata," he said finally, still refusing to look at her.

"I know," there was no point in telling him how many times she herself had told Trisha that wasn't so.

"Do you remember what you told me," his hand curled in the drapery as he looked out on the view of the pool, "when I called to ask you if it was true?"

"I said it wasn't your problem," she said calmly. She didn't want anyone to hate her, no one did, really. But she wasn't going to make apologies either.

"You kept my child from me," He turned from the window, finally. Her nails dug the tiniest bit into the arms of the chair. The look in Jacob's eyes was worse than anger, maybe. He crossed his arms and leaned against the window frame. "She's an amazing young woman."

Renata nodded slowly, partly because she wasn't going to pretend not to be proud of her daughter, and partly because she wasn't sure she trusted this. She'd prepared herself for a battle. The silence stretched, she realized her fingers were digging into the chair almost painfully and when she forced herself to release them, she realized her entire body was tensed. It took everything in her not to go to him because of the look in his eyes.

"I missed everything."

"I know." Silence again.

There was a discreet knock at the door and someone announced room service. Neither of them moved. There was another knock and then the waiter let himself in, wheeling a room service cart behind him. They didn't speak and he seemed to know better than to try and make conversation. His eyes darted quickly between Renata and Jacob, then he made his decision and handed the slim leather bill case to Jacob. He signed it without looking at it and then the waiter was gone.

Renata wondered what the hotel gossip mill would say about this. Employees talked, it was the way of the world. Jacob pulled himself away from the window, going to the service cart to pour coffee. Renata forced herself to get up from the chair. She shuffled to her suitcase, allowing herself to feel a little like an old woman when he had his back to her. She found the fat envelope at the bottom of her purse and made her way back to the table.

Jacob placed a cup of coffee in front of her and sat back down, his eyes flicking to the envelope, then back to her. She turned her cup slowly in its saucer, the coffee was the perfect shade of brown that said he'd put in exactly the amount of cream she liked. If she were younger she'd use that as proof that he still cared. Renata nudged the envelope with her pinky finger. "There are no words for what I took, I know that," she lifted the slim cup to her lips. "I started this for you the week after I moved to DC."

He narrowed his eyes, fingers touching the edge of the envelope gingerly. "What is it?"

Renata reached to open the metal brad that held the envelope flap closed. "At first I thought after a year or two things would be different. And I didn't want you to miss anything because I knew you'd hate that," she shook the envelope gently and whatever was inside slid thickly toward the opening. "Then I wanted to be sure I documented everything because I didn't know when you'd get to see her. Sol…," she slid her fingers inside the envelope and lifted the first picture free. "He didn't agree with my keeping you away. It was our only disagreement, really."

Jacob took the photo from her as though it were poisonous. It was a picture of Trish on her first day of kindergarten. She was wearing an orange tee shirt and a pair of overalls with a perky orange flower on the chest. Her hair was pulled into two little puff balls of curls and the smattering of freckles across her nose and the whiteness of her baby teeth was the kind of thing used to market breakfast cereal. His fingers shook the tiniest bit as he turned the photo over. Renata's even, perfect print filled in three bullet points on the back of the picture. He lifted his eyes to hers, "She only eats things that are blue?"

Renata laughed, "Her blue period lasted for six days. She saw blue corn chips at a Mexican restaurant and thought they were the coolest thing. That picture was taken in the middle of it."

His eyes flicked back to the picture, he turned it over and over in his hands, and he was silent for a long time. Renata sipped her coffee quietly, watching him take in every detail of the picture. Every word written on the back. She considered telling him that the Little Mermaid lunch box in her hand, the one with the purple glitter and the matching turquoise thermos was a massive fight in the back-to-school isle. Because Trish wanted a Ninja Turtle lunch box. And while Renata was fine with hypothetical turtles who had mastered martial arts, that was in the middle of her most judgemental environmentalist phase and she refused to give money to support talking turtles and six foot tall rat creatures who only got that way because of toxic waste.

Jacob put the picture down gently and reached for another. She saw the lines etched in his face deepen and her heart hurt. Sol was right, she should have told him long ago. It was only her pride that stopped her. She'd told herself if Trish ever wanted to see him of course she'd seek him out, but that was cowardice. The next picture was from the hospital. Trisha wrapped in a pink blanket and held against Renata's chest. Renata's face was puffy from labor. The picture had been taken by her grandmother. Jacob's eyes flicked to her and then he turned the picture over to see if she'd written on it as well. " _That_ song?"

"Yeah," she held his gaze, "she had this hoarse little cry." Renata turned her cup in the saucer, "Nothing really helped. She didn't want to nurse. It was the only song I could think of that I knew all the words to." David Bowie, Ground Control to Major Tom.

"Did it work?" He placed the picture gently next to the other one, fingers ghosting over them both.

"For about an hour," Renata laughed softly. She got up from the table slowly, taking her saucer with her to refill her cup.

He lifted the envelope and twenty more pictures fell out. "There's at least a hundred pictures in here," he said.

"Two hundred and eighty six," Renata said, stirring cream into her cup. "I will understand completely if you want to go through them in private." She took the few steps back to her seat and touched the edge of a photo, "This doesn't make up for anything...it's not meant to." She lifted her hair from her neck and twisted it back. At the question in his eyes she lifted a shoulder, suddenly at a loss. "I could've put them in a baby book or something but that just seemed so…"

He moved, rising from his seat, his hip knocking against the table as his fingers curled against her jaw. The kiss was punishing. Renata's fingers dug into his shoulders and she surged up from her own seat. There was nothing tender in their lips, no sweet nothings or words of forgiveness. The air seemed to shatter around them.

 _Present-The Bungalow_

Trish reached behind her and plumped up the mound of pillows between her and Adina and the headboard as Adina reached for the remote on the bedside table without actually moving anything but her arm. "That is one ugly dawg," Trish drawled as Useless thumped his way into the room from living room.

"Mm hm," Adina said reaching another inch to her left but still not moving from the pillows. Useless panted over to the set of dog-stairs Mathias had built for him so he could climb up on the bed on his own and thwumped onto the duvet. "Come here, baby," Adina crooned softly and Useless's stump of a tail wagged.

"What kinda dog is that?" Trish grabbed a handful of the popcorn and made a negating noise when Adina made to scroll past a Yul Brynner movie on the Netflix queue.

"He's _my_ dog," Adina said, scratching Useless's butt as the dog placed his head matter-of-factly on Adina's belly. She shifted and handed Trish the remote so she could press a hand between her breasts.

"Want more pepto?" Trish made to get up from the bed to go for the medicine cabinet. Adina was spending the day in bed, at least, the part of the day that acid reflux was really bad. Her eyes watered and she shook her head.

"I'm sick of wintergreen," She said taking a sip of lemon water. "It'll pass in a minute."

"Aren't you glad rewrites are done?" Trish waggled her eyebrows and pressed the play button. Adina snorted, she'd completed the final edits on her novel a few weeks after she'd found out she was pregnant. She was glad, too, she wasn't sure if she could actually focus on things like plot and dangling modifiers on days when her symptoms were bad.

"I'm going to have to start thinking about a sequel soon," she said, fingers toying with Useless's ear.

"Well yeah," Trish waggled her eyebrows, "Or you could retire and be a mo-om."

"Bite your tongue," Adina tossed a throw pillow in Trish's general direction. "This is so not a place I ever thought I'd be."

"Wyoming?"

"Bitch," Adina shook her head against the pillows. "Sometimes it scares the hell out of me."

"Seriously?" Trish turned on her side, resting her chin against her hand, "you have, like, the perfect relationship."

"Yeah," Adina rolled her eyes. "I think about mama and táte. Tovia's been calling every Friday night since she found out I was pregnant."

"Yeah," Trish knew Adina's aunt had been calling, she had actually been there last Friday night. Adina had quietly excused herself and gone to the study to take the call and Mathias had studiously _not_ asked any questions when she'd returned an hour later. "How come?"

"I think she wants to be supportive," Adina said, loyalty making her words careful.

"What does Mathias think?" She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

"I don't know," Adina shrugged, "we don't talk about it, he's giving me space."

"What does she say when she calls?" Trish had only met Tovia a few times, and she got the impression Tovia was a lonely old woman who'd burned her bridges.

"She makes me hope the baby's a girl," Adina's voice cracked and Useless lifted his head. Trish furrowed her brow.

"Honey, why?" She laced her fingers through her friend's hand and Adina squeezed back.

"I'm hormonal," Adina said as she wiped her eyes, but it didn't convince either of them. "Jew stuff," she said finally. "If it's a boy then there has to be a bris and he and I haven't talked about that and, like, I don't even know how I would feel about it but-"

"There doesn't _have_ to be a bris." Trish said firmly.

"For the baby to be Jewish-"

"You don't have to do anything to your baby you don't want to do," Trish said, squeezing Adina's fingers hard. "That's your damn kid in there, not hers."

"Mama would be so disappointed," Adina said softly and Trish said something foul. "You sound like Renata."

"I'm _gonna_ sic Renata on that woman," Trish said, "She doesn't get to put that on you."

Adina sighed and wriggled on the pillows to lean her head on her friend's shoulder. "I've been freaking out since she first brought it up about this. She'll keep talking about it every time she calls until we find out the sex, probably."

"That is your damn kid you're cookin'." Trish said, poking Adina's belly gently. "If you want to paint his little pee pee green and call him Marvin for the first week of his life, that's your fucking call."

Adina snorted, "Trisha."

"Okay maybe not, but I maintain." Trish scratched Adina's head gently. "Don't let her do that to you."

"You're right," Adina reached for the remote and paused the movie. "So how'd the talk with Jacob go?"

"Bitch."


End file.
